Lovable, Loyal Idiots: the Origin of Bad Dovahkiin
by Peppery
Summary: This story is for Jesse Cox, professional internet swimmer, based on the last few videos in his Skyrim Let's Play.


The Jessahkiin didn't know, that day he entered the Midden, that it would be his last adventure with all four faithful members of the Dovahteam. He didn't know that everything was so close to changing irrevocably.  
It was several long hours after leaving the Augur of Dunlain, the glowing rat beneath the College of Winterhold, that he realized his best friend, Lizzy, was gone. Maybe Jesse should have realized when J'zargo's flame cloak exploded around him and nearly made his dog, Meeko, kill him that Lizzy had been caught in the cross-fire, maybe he should have realized not even a lizard could put up with that much nonsense.  
But he never expected.

It was only after returning to the College that Jesse realized Lizzy had vanished. He was afraid, at first, that his companion had died, but how could he have? After yelling at Ancano, casually slaying a dragon, and asking after an ancient staff, Jesse realized where the Argonian could be: back home at Darkwater Crossing, near the Falmer-infested dungeon from which Jesse had rescued him. The Dragonborn lost no time in saddling Queen Alfsigr and riding out to Eastmarch, Meeko at his heels the entire way.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, have you seen a lizard?"

The woman, blonde hair streaked with dirt, faced him and started in surprise at his appearance. Certainly it was unusual to see a red-headed Nord strolling through a simple mining village clad in armor crafted from dragon bones, a massive ebony sword at his hip. He had glasses perched precariously on his nose.

"A traveler? I'll bet you've seen some sights. We should swap—"

"Ma'am, I'm just looking for a lizard."

The woman looked disappointed. "You must mean Derkeethus. He'll be down in Goldenrock Mine." She pointed vaguely in the directional positiotunity behind her, to a gaping hole in the side of the mountain.  
Jesse entered uneasily, wondering how he could never have know Lizzy was a miner. The mine was barely lit, the lanterns hung sparsely at odd intervals. The sharp, resounding chink of pickaxes on stone echoed through the cavern.

Following the curve of the path, he spent several fruitless minutes searching up and down wooden platforms, inside nooks and crannies, until he found the lizard in question at work under one of the platforms. Before Jesse could reach the Argonian, a little girl caught his arm.

"Hi!" She beamed at him. "I've never seen you around here before. Are you a miner too?"

Jesse looked over his shoulder at Lizzy, who was swinging his pickaxe as though he had done so all his life. He had to swallow several curses as the little girl smiled at him.

"No, I'm—" He shook her clinging hand off his arm. "—I'm a friend of this guy!"

He bounded over to Lizzy, leaving the little girl to stare after him with wide, sad eyes. Jesse might not have recognized his companion had he not been, well, the only Argonian in Darkwater Crossing. Lizzy looked as he had when Jesse had first met him; dressed in a simple tunic and pants, bereft of the glass armor that Jesse had made specifically for him. He looked…certainly not like the irritable, overburdened, deadpan snarker Jesse had known. Lizzy looked content.

"Ours is to smile at your passing, friend," he said blithely, for he had not realized who stood beside him.

Jesse's voice was tight, distant. "Are you saying you're leaving me?"

Lizzy's pickaxe slid out of his hand in surprise. He whipped around, mouth half-open, and it looked as though someone had punched him in the stomach. Jesse certainly felt like someone had punched him.

"Was this your dream all along, Lizzy? Was to be a miner?"

Lizzy opened and closed his mouth, a fish out of water, gasping for something to say. He dropped to his knees and scrambled to find his pickaxe to stall for time. When he righted himself, he finally spoke.

"You—you found me in Darkwater Pass, you remember? Because I had gone too close to the falls and been captured…no noble deed. I learned from childhood to swing a pickaxe and wield a bow when threatened, not to plow through my enemies mindlessly."

"We're the good guys, Lizzy. The Dovahteam!"

Lizzy covered his eyes with one scaled hand. He couldn't bear to look at Jesse. "My name is Derkeethus. And that is not the life I am meant for. I am a miner, not a hero." The hand fell away and he met Jesse's brown eyes with his own unblinking yellow gaze. "You, you go save the world. I will be here."

Jesse looked down and adjusted his glasses, blinking excessively. When he looked up, his expression was determinedly indifferent.

"At least trade me my gear back."

Despite what he had said, Lizzy's glass bow—the one Jesse had made him—was still slung across his back. He removed it and held it out to Jesse, who snatched it away with unnecessary force. The Dragonborn looked down at it as he spoke. His tone was perhaps not as emotionless as he would have liked.

"It's time for us to part ways."

Lizzy smiled sadly. "May the Hist guide you."

They shook hands, and Jesse turned away. As he retraced his steps out of the dim mine, he sung a song quietly to himself as he so often did, while he twiddled with the string of Lizzie's bow.

_"You didn't have to stoop so low, _  
_ Have your friends collect your weapons then change your location._  
_ I guess I don't need your bow…_  
_ Now…"_

His voice petered out and he mumbled the last part. "…Now you're just the Lizzy that I used to know."

He didn't realize, at first, what had happened.

It was almost impossible to comprehend anything beyond the reach of his sword, Black Beauty. There seemed to be mages everywhere, hurling fireballs, lighting rods, and ice spikes at him from every direction. His dragon-bone shield, In Yo Face Basher, could barely deflect every spell meant to end his life.

He turned, wiping blood from his brow even as he tasted its tang in his mouth, barely sparing one thought for Meeko, who had leapt in the path of a spell to defend his master. Then there was another mage was on top of him, a knife in one hand and frost bolts in the other. Jesse shouted as the knife cut across a gap in his armor, but he was undeterred. Black Beauty slashed through the air again and again, never pausing, until the mage had collapsed in a bloody, very dead heap.

The momentum of Jesse's final swing pulled him around. He was looking out at the snowy cavern, faintly lit by a dying fire. Ashes and bodies littered the room, the stench of necromancy still lingering, and there—

"Are you kidding me?" His voice, though quiet, resounded through the empty space. At first he could not believe what he saw. He stepped forward, staggered sideways.

Meeko, his faithful dog, his loyal companion, lay dead on the ground.

"I, I told him, I told him not to run ahead…" Jesse took his helmet off and ran a hand through his hair, still barely able to grasp what he saw. "He did it anyway…he saved me from all those mages."

Jesse moved toward his pet and dropped to his knees. The dog's teeth were still bared in fierce protection of his master.

"Oh, Meeko…"

Even Jesse couldn't pretend that a tear was not shed for his companion that day. He spent what seemed ages trying to wrap his stubborn brain around it, and when he had—

"I am gonna kill every last son of a _bitch_ in Skyrim. So help me Meeko."

He cast his dog a final look, stood, and crossed to the nearest mage. He kicked the corpse viscously in the face until he heard bones snap. Then he stalked up a stone outcrop to a raised level, shouting in rage at the empty room.

"All this, all of this _pain,_ for an effing _flute!"_ He stomped to a table and swept a gem off its surface, crushing the object in his fist. "Oh, oh, I got a black soul gem! Terrific, _terrific!"_

He threw open an ornate chest and tossed its contents into his knapsack. He slammed them so hard that the seams pushed apart, but he didn't care.

"Un_believable."_

Jesse picked up Pantea's lost flute from the very bottom of the chest and stared at it a moment. Then he broke it over his knee and threw the pieces haphazardly into his bag. Why in Oblivion should he care?

As he checked an unlocked cage for loot, empty but for a dead Redguard, his tone dropped to an angry, dangerous murmur.

"People are gonna die. I don't know even know who."

_Frankly, it doesn't even matter._

It was a short walk out of the cave, through an ice-bound tunnel. His mind was seething in bitter uproar, but he couldn't find words. No thing he could say would fix this, fix anything.

When he exited the tunnel, the frozen wastes of Winterhold greeted him. A harsh breeze cut across his exposed face, blowing a flurry of snow against his glasses and blurring his vision. He shouted and rent the air with his sword, but he could do nothing.

"The land has literally taken _everything_ _from me!"_ he screamed. His voice echoed down the icy canyon. "My companion _left,_ my pet is _dead!"_ His voice caught, and he kicked a chunk of snow at his feet. He just—couldn't—anymore.

"Let's find someone to kill."

Somehow, Queen Alfsigr had found her way to the dungeon's outlet. She was waiting for Jesse just outside and was listening patiently to his breakdown. She snorted, her breath making clouds of mist in the frigid air, and stamped her hooves. Jesse stumbled toward her and buried his face in her warm black fur. She alone remained of the original Dovahteam, his first and most steadfast friend. He swung onto her back in one smooth, familiar move. She tossed her head and gave him a look with her dark brown eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, Ally," he muttered.

Even still, he could wish for no better friend. Though Lizzy forsook him, though Meeko died defending him, Ally…

Ally stayed.


End file.
